Sandra O'Connell
The Book

I wrote a book

By On December 23, 2014

It sounds weird. Those four words. I wrote a book. Not real. Not actual. Not alive yet. It was a frustrating and arduous and incredible process. And now it’s done. Sort of.… Read More

World Map

Who am I? Where am I from?

By On December 11, 2014

I am not one person. I am not from one place. My body and brain contain a combination of characters – a lead and many supporting. My personality shifts and morphs depending… Read More

Brooklyn Car Doors

Brooklyn bites

By On November 18, 2014

I have been bitten by Brooklyn. A love bruise has surfaced. Violet, mauve, lilac, crimson. Teeth marks, lip marks, life marks. I am swollen with stimulation. Ablaze with inspiration. Pulsing with drive.… Read More

In flight

The stillness of flight

By On September 20, 2014

I’m coming down. From dehydration. Intoxication. Fatigation – not a word, but it works. I feel like I’ve been away for a month. Not two weeks. Vancouver to Toronto to New York… Read More

Touch - Helmut Newton

Touch me

By On September 2, 2014

I touch things. Feel. Pet. Caress. I connect with my hands. My arms. My lips. My feet. I’m writing this while my insoles are being massaged with knowledgeable knuckles. My calves are… Read More


That jerk called doubt

By On July 15, 2014

Every day. Every day I want to throw in the towel. Give up. End it. Put my pen down. You’re not a writer. You have nothing to say. No one cares. Don’t… Read More